Sunday, November 15, 2015

Bitter-Sweet Sixteen

Tunnel Vision by Harry Zero
Sixteen years.
Doesn’t  it goes by in a blink?   Ok I will feel like that, one day I’m sure, but for now but that sixteen years didn’t feel like a blink. It felt like a lifetime.

And by comparison, eighteen months is a blink. That’s how long it took for my whole life to unravel, to  unmake itself and begin to reform in to something new.

I hate having to kiss him on the cheek.  It literally gives me the creeps. That man I married, vowed to love honour and cherish till death. My best friend of sixteen years, co-dependent in every way.  How the most sterile, polite physical contact creeps me out.

Until the depression really hit, I never had a moment’s doubt about us. And then after his diagnosis, the relief and feeling that ‘this illness’ meant he wasn’t becoming an arsehole. He was in fact ill and struggling. And we still loved each other above all and lived with the conviction we would get through it and be stronger.

Two months later he was Casanova on Tinder, two months after that he was gone. Replaced by someone, something else. Committed to someone else. Dishing out blame like he used to dish out his love for me.

Yesterday we (my little family of two) had a major coup.  He called and told me he was pulling out of the holiday he’d impulsively booked for all of us for Lily’s birthday. He was all sorry and talking about not sending her mixed messages. Then he opened the door on finalising/ formalising our new family structure. 
Immediately I was giddy with relief. He sounded so nice, so reasonable about everything. But I have a fairly good idea where this is really coming from.

This monkey cant free-fall; he can only let go of a branch if he has a good hold on another.  And that’s what I’ve been holding out for.  His bank account tells me what I need to know: that he’s been cashing in small amounts of our shares. He does this to fund activities he doesn’t want me to know about.  It’s beyond me why on earth he thinks he should still be hiding his dating.  Meanwhile I’ve felt encouraged that he’s emotionally detached enough to sacrifice time with Lily, telling us he’s working late or has early morning meetings (as if we need to know), to go dining and breakfasting around town.

His chronic aversion to honesty still baffles me. I think it always will.
Nonetheless, we are seeing light at the end of the tunnel;  just after I decided it was best for me to try and relax, let him come to that place without a fist fight.

Now, looking at the light at the end of this awful dark tunnel, it gives me a jolt how having the rug pulled out from under me can end up feeling so right.

And how knowing that, still makes me feel kind of shocked and sad when I look back.

I’m not sure why.

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